


Sleep Awake

by comfy3666



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Hypervigilance, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 14:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19175275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comfy3666/pseuds/comfy3666
Summary: That day in the correctional facility left similar scars on Nezumi and Shion. All they can do is hold tight and wait for the scars to fade.





	Sleep Awake

**Author's Note:**

> So basically they're traumatised

"Lie awake

I sleep awake

I sleep with one hand on my 45, the other 'round my baby's waist

Lie awake

I sleep awake

I go to bed with all my lights turned on So I don't slip away 

I stay awake"

\- Sleep Awake, Mother Mother

     Nezumi sat up in bed. Under the blankets, his back propped up against a pile of pillows, his silver eyes glinted in the low moonlight slipping through the cracks of the boarded up window.

     Nezumi had boarded it up himself, on a hot summer night when he couldn't calm himself, when his mind wouldn't stop conjuring up images of strangers climbing through the windows, people coming to take him away, because he couldn't possibly be this happy. Someone would come to take it away, and he couldn't leave first again.

     He'd truly tied himself to Shion, and he would remain by his side until someone tore them apart again. So he'd taken some spare planks of wood, some nails, a hefty hammer, and he'd spent the night "remodeling". None of the neighbours had dared to complain.

     Shion slept next to him, his pale hair fanned his face, his mouth was slightly open, air softly whistled out his mouth with each breath. His back was pressed against Nezumi's legs, warm and comforting, the rhythm of his breathing softly shifted his back. Nezumi listened to his slow breathing, focused on the rise and fall of Shion's back, and, in increments, he relaxed his tense muscles, his thoughts slowed, and he would eventually fall asleep, little by little.

     It hadn't been this bad for a few months. But as spring drew near, those memories had crept to the forefront of his mind. A pile of bodies, the dead mixed in with the living. Humans crushed under piles of rubble; some he knew, some he didn't. A red stain blooming over Shion's chest. How he slowly grew colder over the next few hours. The pain that ripped through him as he watched Shion die, watched his soul fade from his eyes, leaving an empty shell where there used to be a person he loved.

     Nezumi imperceptibly shook his own head. Never again. They were here together now. There wasn't even a gunshot scar to show that the wound had ever happened. The solid warmth of Shion's back against him was the most comforting reminder of his safety.

     For tonight, they were safe. All the doors were locked (some of them more than once), and the entrances were barred. He had used to be able to roll with the punches when they came, but he'd never been hit so hard until Shion was shot. Now there were guns that could kill either of them around every corner, deadly intent behind every stranger's polite smile.

     Damn Shion for teaching him how to value his own life. This pain and fear sometimes grew so loud that it burned all his other thoughts away, leaving just a buzzing, tingling fear that danced through him, leaving his hair standing on end and his instincts on edge. Sometimes the fear grew so unbearable he didn't think he'd ever recover from it. It was easier when he couldn't see value in his life or actions. The freedom he held when he didn't care about his life had drained away, but he still wouldn't trade his life with Shion for his freedom back. He may have been shackled, but he was shackled together with someone who meant more than the world, and for him he'd have put up with a great deal more.

     Slowly, his thoughts began dropping away, and eventually, he slid down to nestle against Shion, breathing in his woodsy, soapy scent, and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

     Sometime in the night, Shion briefly awoke as he felt Nezumi slide further under the blankets, and he leant further back into Nezumi's warmth, the almost floral perfume of his hair wafting over him like a soothing spell coming to draw him back into sleep.

     The nightmares usually came in the early morning, when the sky was just barely lightening; and every time you looked at the sky, it was a slightly different shade of dark blue. Tonight was no different, but the nightmare itself was new.

     He was in the body pit of the correctional facility again, but this time Nezumi wasn't here. He had to find Nezumi, and they would go and save Safu.

      _No_ , a little voice spoke in the back of his mind, _Safu is dead, leave now, leave before you can't come back, she'd forgive you for running, she'd understand-_

     He could never leave behind either of them. Maybe he couldn't have loved Safu like he loved Nezumi, but she was a member of his family. He loved her as much as he loved his own mother, and he could never leave his friend in this hellhole, in this building of horrors and death and endless screaming.

     He had to climb.

     One hand over the other. His hands pressing in on warm bodies. He couldn't look at them. He had to detach himself, think of them as nothing more than stairs to take him to Nezumi and Safu. Fear climbed up his throat, trying to make him scream. No. No. He had to turn off his brain and climb to the top. That was the only thing that mattered, even as some of the stairs he climbed groaned or cried out as he moved over them.

     His hand gripped a knitted jumper, and he couldn't help but look. He knew this jumper, knew the pale purple. Karan. This jumper had been given to Karan. He tried to pull, to pull Karan out of the weight of bodies crushing down on her. But her face emerged, and it wasn't Karan, it was Nezumi, and his joints were bent wrong, he was riddled with bullet wounds, and he was twelve again, and his silver eyes were staring glassily at nothing, and the scream finally escaped Shion, and he couldn't stop screaming, and he held Nezumi against him, screams spilling out of his mouth that he couldn't stop, he'd saved Nezumi, had they caught him? But he'd protected Nezumi, he'd stitched him up and fed him and he was safe, he couldn't be here.

     He was so hard to hold on to. His hands were slippery as soap. Desperately, Shion grabbed a fistful of his sweater, and it came apart in his hands, just threads of yarn wrapping around him, and there was yarn twisting around his arms and legs and he couldn't move, he couldn't see Nezumi, he couldn't do anything but scream and he could hear Nezumi screaming for him too-

     "SHION! _SHION!_ " A hard slap knocked him awake, and the dream fell away as he struggled to open his eyes and he realised he was still screaming. His screams became sobs, and he fell against Nezumi, holding onto him like he'd fall away just like in the dream. After a few minutes, his sobs slowed, and he became aware of his surroundings. He was in the home he'd moved into with Nezumi. Pale morning light weakly struggled through the cracks in the boarded up window. They were in what had been Lost Town, and his head was on Nezumi's lap, and his pyjamas were stuck his skin in places with sweat, and he'd kicked off the blankets again. Nezumi's hand was stroking his hair, and his voice was quietly moving through the air, singing so softly the words were unclear. His sobs stopped entirely, and he was left drawing rattling breaths. When he had regained control and sense, he sat up, only to lean his head against Nezumi's shoulder.

     "Good morning," he mumbled against Nezumi's shoulder, the fabric of his shirt soft from years of wear.

      "Good morning," came the reply. They'd long since moved past apologising for the habits that night had formed, be it nightmares or paranoia or other tendencies.

      They were here, and they'd survived, and they'd fight as long as they needed to against the day that haunted them. They'd recover.

     Shion was awake now, but he kept his head down in the crook between Nezumi's shoulder and neck just for a few more minutes. They stayed there like that, both holding onto each other, until the sun was fighting to shine through the window to signal the morning had arrived. These memories would fade, but Nezumi would still be by his side for as long as life allowed him. And if they had to face hell again, they would. But for the next few minutes, they could stay wrapped around each other, tears still drying on Shion's face.


End file.
